Christine Richardson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2022

Stories (9)

9 Stories

220 karma pts

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“Not a Limo Ride” by Christine Richardson

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #264

Excerpts from marriage discourses by Joseph Bockner, Clarence Wallenstein, and Anna Marie Wallenstein.August 16, 1957Marriage of Clarence Wallenstein and Anna Marie BocknerJoseph Bockner, father of the bride:I’m sure you know by now that today is not the happiest day of my life. My baby – my only daughter – is only seventeen, for Pete’s sake. I would never have given my consent, except that she’s just as stubborn as her mother and my life would not be worth living if I said no and stuck to it. So, Clarence, you get to spirit h...

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“Replay” by Christine Richardson

Submitted to Contest #263

Sensitive content. Some Christians may find the distortion of classic religious themes disturbing. This is a work of fantasy, not a theological statement. It is intended to entertain and provoke thought, not to offend. +++Lord Beelzebub, aka Prince of Darkness, Asmodeus, and Father of Lies, threw back his head and let loose a boisterous guffaw.“God … the Almighty, omnipotent, omniscient and altogether perfect deity of the universe … God is asking a favour from me? What could he possibly want?”Gabriel pulled his dark cloak closer around ...

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“Rolling with the Punches” by Christine Richardson

Submitted to Contest #262

“Good God,” my mother said. “We’ve arrived in hell.” I opened my mouth, and then closed it again. There was nothing I could say to make either one of us feel better. Perfect Road Trip 2018 was not unfolding as planned. Because I could not see the mountain peaks while we were driving through the billows of wildfire smoke in the valleys, I had assumed that the Skytram would elevate us above the miasma to a heaven of pure.clear air, blue skies, and sundrenched slopes caressed by refreshing breezes. Instead, it had disgorged us in a s...

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“19861007” by Christine Richardson

Submitted to Contest #253

This story contains themes of spousal abuse and mental illness.Darlene Turner, aka Darcy Barrows nee Grainger, stood in her kitchen, filling her electric tea kettle with filtered water. A chamomile and lavender blend teabag lay beside her bone china mug adorned with forget-me-nots. Its gold rim made it unsuitable for the microwave, but Darlene was willing to accommodate the inconvenience. China carried a special magic, and Darlene needed all the magic she could get.She flipped the power switch on the kettle and retired to her overs...

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“Danny's Girl, Revisited” by Christine Richardson

Submitted to Contest #252

“Honey, I’m home!” Danny warbled the words cheerfully, savoring them, willing himself to forget that he lived alone now, and no one would answer. He closed the door gently, hung up his suit jacket, and loosened his tie. He imagined Carlotta emerging from the kitchen, swathed in her homespun apron, a dusting of flour on her nose and cheek, like a visitation of early-winter snowflakes. There would be greetings and hugs and kisses and maybe a little hanky-panky on the couch before she confessed that her culinary efforts had led to dis...

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“The Castaway Bride” by Christine Richardson

Submitted to Contest #217

THE CASTAWAY BRIDE “Land ho!” A desperate bellow, brightened by hope. Perhaps salvation was within our grasp and we would survive after all. I tightened my hold on the whatever-it-was that I was clinging to, and held my breath as yet another salty shower washed over me.. The night was alive with curses, screams and prayers. A bolt of lightning turned our darkness into day, and I caught a glimpse of two men wrestling with the great wheel of the Windrider, striving to keep her nose headed into the towering waves. I po...

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“It Only Takes a Moment to Open or Close a Door” by Christine Richardson

Submitted to Contest #196

Gavin J. Hubbard Junior, lately of London, Ontario, Canada, grunted with exasperation as his insubstantial astral body began to ooze through the chair he was sitting on. If he had known how annoying life after death could be, he would have taken better care of himself. Not that it would have changed anything. There wasn’t much wrong with his forty-two-year-old body until the sixteen-wheeler flattened his car.It was all that stupid therapist’s fault. “Take a little detour to a pretty place, sit quietly and unwind instead o...

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“A Hundred and Fifty-Four Acres” by Christine Richardson

Submitted to Contest #166

“How is your back doing?” Millie asked. The grimace on Harvey’s face said it all, but she wanted to hear him admit it.Harvey ignored her question. His pain levels were private business, and acknowledging them was a sign of weakness. A farmer had better things to do than feel sorry for himself.“Did you count the livestock?’ he asked.“All present and accounted for.” That was not the chore it used to be. Harvey had sold the horses, the mule, the yearlings, and all the cows but six, along with their calves. The...

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“After the Fall” by Christine Richardson

Submitted to Contest #165

AFTER THE FALL My knees were shaking when I walked into the dining room of the Prince Charles hotel. What had possessed me to ask Gerald to meet me here? I had imagined that an initial meeting in a public place would be easier, forcing us to chat about the weather instead of tearing our guts out. Now, room service seemed much more sensible. No curious eyes would stare at me if I lost control behind my locked door. A server escorted me towards a table for two by the window. A hauntingly familiar stranger was seated ...

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Author bio

Christine G. Richardson is a kindly grandmother who goes to bed far too late when she is absorbed in writing. She is active on Wattpad.com and Novellea.com. Christine lives in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.

Shortlisted 1 story ⭐️

Contest #264
Not a Limo Ride – read story